isn't ready for you.

The well was filled with bones, skeletons and skulls of all races mixed together laid at to bottom of the pit.

After the shock of being stabbed and the short length of the fall, the spell you tried to cast wasn't ready when you hit the pile of corpses.

The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was a long shard of black metal sticking through your heart.

It wasn't normal pain, not the one you felt while being stabbed, it was like something was sulking life from all parts of your body.

....

Cold.

Everything was cold.

You opened your eyes, it was surprising that you could see anything in the darkness of the pit. It was a miracle that you survived the fall. Stranger than that was the fact that the blade was still sticking from your chest.

The blue runes were glowing on the dark steel of the sword. Those runes were old, very old. In your studies you never saw the like, but you once read a book about something approaching. You tried to translate it to the best of your capacity.

"**** is not the end for **** is our servant. The impures will suffer her grasp and the chosen will rise again. Do not fear ****, **** is only the beginning. The chosen will rise and serve the Dark Lord for all eternity, we are immortal, we are the Lich Knights. " you read on the blade.

You were cold, your skin was grey and you just noticed that you were not breathing.

You didn't survive the fall or the blood loss from your stabbing, you had died impaled on the blade of one of the undead necromancers that led the host in the Lorican war.

The cursed blade, your magic, maybe even the spell you tried to cast had raised you from the dead.

You managed with great efforts to stand on your feet and remove the blade from your chest. Your clothes were dirty and torn out, you were cold and weak. You felt no thirst nor hunger but a strange need.

A rat was running between the bones on the floor and nearly without thinking you casted an arc of lightning that lifted it in the air. Rather than to just burn it began to shrivel into a dried husk. You felt better but soon that need was there again.

You remembered about the liches, wizards that traded life for immortality. They needed to absorb the lifeforce of the living to preserve themselves and fuel their magic.

Looking into your holding bag you picked a leaf of bread thinking that you could attract more rats, it was hard as stone and whatever you could find that was once food was dried out or rotten. You would have to regain strength, physical and magical to exit this well

You tried to remember the incantation of one spell, you learned it in your childhood and it was rarely used thanks to the many clocks of the capital. It simply let you know the time and date.

One year, three months, six days and five hours, it was the time that passed since you were stabbed by Cynthia Donovan and left for dead in this hole.

You had to find a way out and to go back to Kelredia to look for Valeria